


La Comédie du Grand Amour

by lanyon



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, team america
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers falls in love with Sharon Carter. It's inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Comédie du Grand Amour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beardsley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardsley/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my dearest, darlingest Beardsley.

Steve is unaccustomed to the casual appreciation of women. He appreciates Sharon Carter in a way that is anything but casual. Tony lets out a low whistle when she walks by and says, “Check out those stems.”

“ _Tony_ ,” says Steve.

“It’s okay, Captain Rogers,” says Sharon, in a way that means it’s not okay. 

.

He has never known anyone like her. 

(No, it’s true. She is of her time and for the longest time, he knows her only as Agent 13.)

.

Steve is not a jealous man. It wasn’t jealousy that drove him to accept the serum; he did not envy muscles and height and strength. He has never been jealous of Bucky’s way with women or of Sam’s ability to say just the right thing but, now, when Bucky is sitting on Sharon’s lap and she is leaning in to whisper something into Sam’s ear, he is jealous. He wants all her secrets and he will give her his own secrets, too.

.

“Your friend has a fucking death wish,” Sharon says, easing down next to Steve. He’s sitting on a mat in the gym. He feels loose-limbed and content after a long tai chi session with Danny. 

“He always has had an interesting taste in women,” says Steve, thinking of Gretchen and the girls before the war.

“She’s one of my closest friends,” says Sharon, eyes trained on the sparring ring.

“Oh, I didn’t - I didn’t mean that-”

Sharon laughs and puts her hand on his thigh. “You’re so goddamn easy to rile up.” He’s entranced by the wrinkle of her nose. “I love it.”

She stands up and Steve’s cheeks are pink as he watches her walk away again and perhaps his eyes linger a little over the line of her neck and the sway of her hips in her short gym shorts. He doesn’t even notice that he licks his lips. 

There is a roar and Bucky’s on his ass and Romanov grins sharply as she turns away to talk to Sharon.

.

He doesn’t know her surname. Sometimes, when he thinks he may be brave enough to ask her out, she makes an excuse to leave and she looks sad and that’s not right and one day, she sits down opposite him in the commissary. He’s finished his lunch but he has no reason to leave.

“The biggest influence in my life was my aunt,” she says, abruptly. “She still is, though she’s old now. She is, genuinely, the best woman I’ve ever known.”

“That’s not a bad thing, Sharon,” says Steve, even as his finger inch forward to touch the sleeve of her jumpsuit. He likes that she wears white. It is not a question of purity but he likes women who can stand alone. 

“It is when she’s the best woman _you’ve_ ever known, too.” 

Steve blinks. “My mother?”

She stares at him for a moment and tips her head back and laughs. “Shit, you are the actual best.” She leans forward and places her hand on his cheek and he leans into it and presses a kiss to her palm. “My surname is Carter,” says Sharon, softly. She runs her thumb over his lower lip. “I hope we can still be friends.” 

She stands up, even though she hasn’t touched her lunch and the lettuce leaves are already wilting, and Steve reaches out to wrap his fingers around her wrist. He tugs gently until she sits back down again. His heart is hammering in his chest. 

“You swear a lot more than your aunt ever did,” says Steve. He will not say that he loves strong women though everyone knows he has a type. “There is - there is one thing that reminds me of her.”

Sharon goes stiff. Steve thinks she’ll punch him if he says the wrong thing.

“She always, always treated me like a regular guy.”

Sharon stares at him. Steve swallows. “I mean. You - you look at me and it’s like you don’t even see the uniform.”

He realises, a second too late, what he’s said when she starts to howl with laughter again. 

.

“My aunt told me about the boy she loved. He was brave and, like all brave men, he was a little stupid with it.”

“I’m a little stupid about you.”

“Hey, you’re not the brave one here. I’m the one who had to ask you out. _I’m_ the one who’ll end up proposing and you know it. I’m the -”

Steve kisses her. Sharon kisses back like she has a point to prove. She bites down sharply on his lower lip and he lets out a surprised moan and pulls her tighter against him. They kiss and kiss and kiss; soft kisses and deep kisses and the kind of hungry kisses that he never knew about. His hands rest on her hips and her hands are gliding through his hair and she is pressed up against him. 

Eventually, he pulls back and he has never seen her so ruffled. 

“Who’s brave now?” he asks, grinning, unable to look away from her swollen lips with a proud sense of _I did that_.

“Stupid, Captain Rogers,” she says, without heat. Her eyes are closed and Steve’s hands are sweeping slow strokes up and down her sides. “So fucking stupid to make me fall-”

.

“If I wasn’t practically _married_ to Pep, I’d-”

“Not finish that sentence?”

“She’s a big strong girl, Cap. Don’t think she needs you protecting her honour.”

“She doesn’t but I’m much kinder about it than she would be.”

.

They are in Steve’s office. It is unprofessional enough that he is achingly hard. She is sitting on his desk, feet on either side of his desk chair. He reaches up and tugs at the zipper on the front of her uniform. He does it slowly, so slowly, and her hair is golden and loose and he pauses long enough to coil some strands around his finger and kiss them. He zips down to her navel and he doesn’t know why he assumed that she would be wearing an undershirt but there is a smooth expanse of skin and he noses between her breasts and down the hard lines of her abdomen and he knows that she has earned every ounce of her strength with hard work and the kind of human perseverance he has long since forgotten, though he knows he used to have it in spades.

She is impatient and laughing and Steve wonders if she’s ever been adored like this before. At her command, he pulls off the rest of her uniform and sheds his own in a matter of seconds.

“Super-soldier speed, I like it,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and crushing her mouth to his as she presses her breasts against his chest.

His heart aches with how perfect she is; how she is so formidable but she will smile for him and laugh and how she reaches down to wrap her hand around him and guide him into her with such surety and purpose. 

When they make love, though she calls it fucking, a littany of swear words falls from her mouth and Steve never thought he’d find that so arousing but Sharon values her poise above all and here she is, allowing herself to fall apart in his arms. 

Afterwards, she is curled on his lap and he idly thinks about getting a couch or something for the corner of the room. There is a SHIELD jacket over them that does nothing to preserve their modesty. His hand is on her breast, thumb idly flicking over her nipple, just to see how it raises gooseflesh on the skin of her arms. 

“It’s my birthday today,” she says, softly, her head tucked against the crook of his neck.

“I - I’m sorry,” he says, instantly mortified. “I didn’t know-”

“Shh,” she says. “I know you didn’t,” she says. She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. “You treat me right every fucking day. I figured a man like you - I mean. A man from fucking _history_ wouldn’t know how to treat a woman like me but you get me and I’m not gonna ask for more.” 

He doesn’t know whether to be troubled that she thinks loving her might be a difficulty and he lowers his hand and tucks it between her thighs, scratching lightly at the sticky, flaky residue that he left behind. “Sharon, Sharon, you can ask me for everything. Anything.”

She moans softly, parting her legs a little and he slips a finger inside, crooking it slightly and rubbing. 

“Then take me out tonight. Dinner and dancing.”

He waits for the moment his heart constricts and he tastes Arctic air in his mouth but it never comes. “Dinner and dancing it is,” he says. “Though you’ll have to teach me how.”

“Deal, mister. I got your back.” 

.

“Fuck, did you _see_ Thirteen? That _dress_. Fuck.”

“Put your eyes back in your head, Stark,” says Bucky, with too much satisfaction. “Can’t you see she’s spoken for?”

**Author's Note:**

> +Title from Blur's _To The End_.  
>  +This is for Beardsley, who is my hero, who's smart and witty and who has taught me so much. I can't apologise enough for writing heterosexual romance for your birthday but I hope a strong admiration for a fierce lady is a worthy offering (and that Tony being a dick and Team America being the foundation of all good things makes up for it).


End file.
